Guide
by OdairYouAreFinnick
Summary: 12 years since leaving glee club, Finn finds himself seeing a vision of a pretty, blonde girl. The face of the girl he once loved. Mystified by her strange apperances, he allows her to guide him down the right path. Friendships are restored, and Old love, becomes new.
1. Chapter 1

For Finn Hudson, the hallucinations began shortly after the explosions had hit the camp, on the day he _should_ have died.

Nothing, and he knew this now, could have prepared him for War. Even the months of tireless training, which were excruciating for him, didn't ready him for this. He'd been asleep when the bomb fell, waking up to sound of screams. He was out of his tent soon enough to watch the first bomb hit the floor, erupting in a treacherous ball of searing hot flames. He knew, in an instant, there was nothing he could do, and within seconds, a blistering heat had overtaken everything. The oxygen seemed to swelter under the heat, and the only thing Finn inhaled was clouds of dust. He had been a good distance from the first bomb, but he knew there would be more to come.

He stumbled towards his friend, who was looking towards the sky with a pleading expression. Ryan, just like Finn, had joined the army because his father had before him. He was a short guy, with curly black hair and a long, angled nose. Finn was drawn to his companionship because of Ryan's constant optimism, but even Ryan, seemed at loss now.

That's when the second bomb had hit.

He was deafened by an ear-splitting boom, and the explosion itself had enough force to toss him into the air. As everything around him turned to flames, Finn was pretty certain that his death would soon follow. When he hit the ground again, the taste of gravel and blood in his mouth was the only thing that assured him he was still alive. Agony flooded through him, it was as though every piece of his flesh was alight with burning, hot flames. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to escape the heat, the pain, but he couldn't. It stuck with him.

He needed to move, quick.

But his body was to absorbed with the terrible, lingering pain he couldn't process his thoughts. His breaths were coming out slowly now, struggling to inhale anything other than smoke and dust. He coughed loudly, spitting out dark blood on the floor. He tossed his head upwards in frustration, and that's when he saw her.

In that instant, he was convinced he was dead.

Because_ she _was dead.

He looked up at her, his gaze awe-struck.

Quinn Fabray stood above him, beautiful and un-aging, forever seventeen.

Her expression mimicked content, and she seemed in no way aware of what was going on around her. She was wearing the last clothes he'd seen her in, which was when he'd had to identify the body. He cringed at the thought of it, at her mangled, bloody and bruised body lay on the metal table, the pink coloured brides-maid dress losing its glory instantly. Quinn Fabray had been on the way to his and Rachel's wedding, when a lorry slammed into her car…killing her instantly.

She smiled at him, in the way she always had the smile that would have made his heart melt, and held out her hand.

Finn would have taken it straight away, if the pain hadn't returned in a rush. He felt a pang of fury then, at why he hadn't he died already, how could this go on for so long. Surely, if there was a god, he wouldn't have been released by now ? He looked at Quinn, pleading for her help, but it was obvious there wasn't much she could do. She turned on her heels and began to walk away.

It was like some force had filled him with strength. He'd used his arms, pulling his body along in a painful crawl. He followed her descending figure, now shining like an angel. She stopped rather abruptly, and pointed in front of her. A little distance away, was an emergency response team, scouring for survivors. Finn only had to yell out, and someone spotted him. As bodies hurried to his aid, he looked up towards the spot where Quinn had been. Only to find, that once again, she was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N I just want to start by saying thanks to everyone that has taken the time to read/review this story! It's my first, 'proper' fan-fiction and I'm looking forward to seeing where it goes!**

**Please let me know what you think, any comments are helpful. Especially constructive criticism, I want to improve my writing!**

**Happy reading J**

The next time Finn opened his eyes, everything was different.

He could feel it in the atmosphere of the room, his senses alert too it. But more shockingly, he could feel the changes in his body. Oddly, he felt no pain. Just a strange numbness that worried him. In a panic, he began checking over his body.

First, he turned his head. He blinked a couple of times. It was okay, he could see, he could hear. Then he rolled his shoulders, the movement stiff and uncoordinated. He felt a pang in his muscles. He bent his arms inwards. They were still mobile, though less strong than they had once been. He clenched his fists into a ball, then slowly released them. Then onto his legs…

His legs.

He couldn't move his legs.

His heart caught in his throat, and little by little, the world collapsed around him. He reached forward, touching the slackened muscles of his thighs. The skin felt too lose, like there was nothing beneath it but bone. He tightened his fist and punched his leg in fury. The pale skin turned pink, and yet he still felt nothing.

_Move._

He tried for his feet then, attempting to move his toes.

But still, nothing.

Finn later learnt, that the explosions had been some of the heaviest recorded. Not only were they horrific, but he was one of only thirty survivors. The doctors told him that he should count himself lucky. Lucky that he only lost his limbs and not his life. Finn disagreed.

Finn didn't feel lucky, instead he felt _hallow_. He'd been robbed of his independence, he felt useless and trapped within his own body. But most of all, he felt dirty. Like he'd somehow cheated death. He found him countlessly asking the question, Why him?

Why did he survive?

Why not Lance, the eighteen year old with enough enthusiasm to keep everyone's spirits high, with his four year old sister awaiting his return home? Why not Brooke, the guy who openly gushed about his fiancée, the woman who was heavily pregnant with his baby? A baby that would now, never see his father. And, to the agony of Finn… Why not Ryan? Ryan, who at times, had been Finns only companion. They were joined together through some sort of unspoken agreement, they had each-others backs. They were, in short, best-friends. They would make light humour to cheer each-other up, talk about everything that was on their minds, and if they weren't in the mood for talking, they'd sit together in silence. It was the sort of companionship that's hard to come across. Finn himself had only seen it once before, and that was with Rachel.

Rachel. Finn didn't like to think about her too often. He knew he'd loved her, and he also knew that he'd never love anyone else to the extent he'd loved her. But, when Quinn died, he realised, he couldn't trample her. He'd had to let Rachel go, let her spread her wings. But even though he knew it was for the best, it was a decision he always regretted. He wished he'd kept her for himself, and though the thought was shallow and greedy, it was something he often expressed to Ryan.

But that was all over now.

After that, Things moved quickly.

Finn stayed at the hospital to undergo physical therapy, and the doctors had promise that eventually, he would be able to regain strength in his leg, saying that it was hopeful that the paralysis was only tempory. They were optimistic, but told him he would probably always need a cane to support him. Finn stayed in town long enough to visit the funeral, before moving away to somewhere where the memories were less painful.

It took him a while to decide where he was heading. He didn't want to go back to Lima, where the thoughts of Quinn's lifeless body would tear him apart. But he couldn't stay here either. In the end, he settled at a dead-beat, dried up fishing town along the coast. It was nothing special, and he knew that. But, it did have a promising programme that would supposedly help him, and his house was close enough to the hospital that it wouldn't be a struggle to get there.

His house was small, and from the outside, weathered and ramshackle. It needed repainting, and the tiling on the roof probably needed fixing up, but aside from its shady exterior, it was an okay place to live. Finn had kept the insides tidier, but minimal. He had only the necessary furniture, but his house lacked everything that made a house a home. There were no keepsakes from his past scattered around, no photographs. His house reflected his thoughts. He wanted to keep the past where it was, _in the past_. He clearly didn't want any memories catching up with him.

And it was then, three months after the ordeal, did Quinn Fabray appear for the second time.

The image of her was less blurred up close. For she materialised on the edge of his bed, looking down at him with a sad, curious gaze. Finn had pulled the sheets up over his bare chest, as if he found her presence fright-full, and she had laughed at his startled expression. Only, he'd thought she'd laughed. Her face cracked up and her lips wobbled, but he heard no sound. He took the moment to observe her. Her blonde hair was in the same short crop, collected neatly around her face, framing it with strands of gold. Her skin was honey-tinted and perfectly smooth, not a graze or scratch adorning it. Her heart-shaped lips were half open, as-if she wanted to speak. Her eyes, a soft brown, were glistening in the early morning light. She'd reached forward, and patted his knee. A strange, serene gesture, as when she'd leant forward, Finn could have sworn he'd felt her hand grace his knee. That he'd felt the strength in her hands, the heat of her skin.

"Why are you here?" He'd uttered, his voice coming out in a croak.

Quinn raised an eyebrow at him quizzically. Before softening her expression. This time, when she opened her mouth to speak, he heard her. Her voice the same as ever- sweet as sugar and as clear as a bell.

"You already know the answer" She whispered.

And then, she vanished.

Since that occasion, Finn had seen Quinn everywhere, but only that once had he heard her speak. Usually, she blended into her surroundings seamlessly. He'd been paying for his shopping, grimacing as the woman behind the counter had to lean over to take the money from his hands, when she'd been stood outside, looking in at him. He'd seen her again at the gym, where he was lifting weights. Then, early that day, at the therapy session, when he'd somehow managed to walk a few steps with only his stick, she turned up, joining in the applause. Beaming at him.

Undoubtedly, Finn was beginning to question his sanity.

_Quinn was long dead. He'd seen the body. He went to the funeral._ So there was no possible way for him to actually see her before him, and yet he did. And not only that, but the visions were becoming clearer. Like at the Gym, he was almost certain he could smell her- that fruity, sickly perfume she used to wear filling up his senses. Of course, it was possible someone other than Quinn herself wore the perfume, but still, it startled him.

Finn new that insanity was plausible for him, with the after-effects of war. He'd heard so many stories on the news, soldiers who'd been driven crazy- haunted by visions of their past. He'd pitied them, but never thought that one day, he would be in their shoes. Then again, there were so many things he'd never thought would happen.

He thought he'd never lose Rachel.

He didn't think he would be unlucky enough to become paralysed.

He never suspected that Quinn would die at the fragile age of 17.

Finn had briefly considered signing up for therapy. But he knew how that would turn out. Some snob of a woman would urge him to ramble on about his past, uncovering the painful memoires he'd only just managed to set aside- and not only would that hurt but she'd charge him from it. And then, alls she would do was slap him with the 'crazy' label and give him some tablets to dim out the hallucinations. He didn't want that to happen, and besides, it wasn't that the hallucinations were in anyway disturbing or frightening. But almost, _comforting_. Seeing her before him, after he'd gotten over the initial shock, was like a breath of fresh air.

Even he was crazy, he still didn't understand why it was Quinn he was seeing.

His mind whirled over the second encounter, where her voice had rang through his ears. "You already know the answer".

Fin decided, hesitantly, that the visits had a purpose behind them. Quinn was trying to help him with his recovery, whether it was his physical or emotional one he was yet to discover, but nevertheless, she was there to his aid.

She was like a guardian angel.

His thoughts were disturbed by a loud, sharp bang. Finn jolted in his chair, immediately craning his neck around to where the noise had come from. The house, obviously, was only one story, so it wasn't hard to determine where the noise was made. Another bang followed, and Finn headed towards where the sound was coming from.

He pushed open the door, half expecting Quinn to be stood there. But she wasn't, the room was empty. But, his cupboards had been torn open, and clothing was scattered everywhere. He wheeled himself further into the room, and noticed the little, wooden box sitting on his bed. The box contained his memories, they were the only ones he kept with him, for he didn't want to throw them out- nor openly display them- he liked the thought that his memories were hidden away. They were still there, but out of sight.

The lid of the box was slightly ajar, like someone had been rifling through it. Finn felt his teeth grit in annoyance, but he quickly slackened his Jaw and went to pick up the box. It had been a while since he'd looked through it, the box slightly dusty, and he felt a familiar ache overcome him as he lifted the lid off.

First, was a photo of his father. Worn out with age, but still sentimental. He was wearing his army uniform, and was wearing an almost smug, _proud_ smile on his lips. The next thing he laid his eyes on, was a silver cross necklace, the jewels encrusted inside it glistening. _It had been Quinn's._ Given to him by her mother at her funeral. "Take a little piece of her with you, she will protect you at war" She had said, in a sad, sing-song voice. He realised then, that her mother's prediction had rang true…Quinn had protected him, and she was continuing to do so. Numbly, he tucked the necklace into his Jean pocket. He scoured through a few more keepsakes, receipts, bottle-caps, photographs. Until eventually, his hands grasped his high school yearbook.

He smiled as he flipped through the yearbook, remembering his time in high-school. It had been stressful and unpredictable, and yet, it was the best time of his life. It was through there, through its pupils, had he had his first kiss, made love for the first time, and found, who he'd thought to be his soul-mate. Not all of his memories were fond ones, but he was still smiling as he looked through the book.

He stopped at the memorial page for Quinn. Taking a brief moment to mourn her. He studied the photograph, she was wearing her cheerio's uniform, and a bright smile was on her lips. She had her hair pulled back into a pony-tail. She looked stunning, and he now realised why every lad in the high school had lusted after her- the beautiful Quinn Fabray. He took time, running his hands over the picture, over the outline of her skinny body. He frowned for a moment, before placing a kiss on his fingertips and then onto the paper.

"Miss you Quinn" He said, before turning the page.

It was this page, however, that surprised him the most. It was the yearly Glee club photograph. He couldn't help but Grin as he saw it, as he saw the group of people bunched together- all smiling- all united by the same, undying bond. They'd left high-school so full of promise- all with dreams in their sights. Not all of them had made it, but some had. And despite their promises, they had drifted apart. All that was left of glee now for Finn, was a slightly rekindled spirit, and happy memories. He looked at the photos, remembering each of his friends- their personalities, the sound of their voice. Then his eyes caught something- around the photograph, all of glee club had added their signatures- all joking that the page would be worth millions when there all celebrities, but there was something new added to the scrawls, underneath the 'Glee club 2012' text, was a swirled text. The 'I' was dotted with a familiar heart, and he immediately identified the writing to be Quinn's. _Impossible._ He gulped and leant in closer to read it.

It stated simply; _Find Them_

**A/N- So there we go! Part Two! Sorry for the delay in updating, I wanted to make it the best I possibly could, and didn't want to ruin it by rushing. I hope you all enjoyed it.**

**Question time! As you've already gathered, Quinn is going to help Finn repair his life, and to do this, she is going to guide him back to the people he spent his teenage years with- the Glee club members! (Yay reunion) what I was wondering is, who do you want Finn to re-encounter?**

**(Of course, Rachel is a given, but I'm saving her till later)**

**I hope you all enjoyed it.**

**Please Review!**


	3. Chapter 3

Finn Hudson had attempted to begin the impossible task of locating all of his classmates, but it was proving difficult. Once high school had finished, everyone had scattered to the four corners of the world- separated by distance, time and careers. So far, he'd found out that Sugar was still living in Lima, working as a cocktail waitress. Sam was in Chicago. Mike was touring with some sort of Dance Company. As for everybody else, he had little knowledge of their whereabouts.

He had tried desperately to summon Quinn was again, to beg for her aid, but he couldn't. It had been a few weeks since he'd seen the image of her, pretty young and sweet- and he was beginning to wonder if it was a figment of his imagination once again, concocted as some sort of coping mechanism. Then again, there were the signs of her presence lingering around him. He caught the odd whiff of her perfume, or even sensed a presence other than his own in a room when physically, there was no-one else there.

He needed someone to help him, someone who could help him find his previous classmates. Someone who could help him fulfil Quinn's mission.

That person was Kurt Hummel.

Kurt Hummel, was woken by the sound of the front door closing with a metallic clang.

He smiled, bemused by his boyfriends futile attempts at leaving the house without rousing him, laughing about how once again, they had failed. They're relationship was simple and uncomplicated, no it wasn't the heated and passionate relationship he had envisioned for himself, but it was loving at it made him happy so he thought it was enough. They'd been living together for a long time, moving within the last year to a larger, more established apartment in the centre of New York.

Yes it was expensive, and yes it wasn't a necessity, but as Kurt had vivaciously explained to his father- They could afford it, and why shouldn't they be allowed to indulge themselves? The apartment had only just come up to scratch however, after it took months to find stylish furniture which would match the location perfectly. Kurt hadn't had to worry much about this though, because his Boyfriend was an interior designer and had pretty much done the whole thing himself. If it had been another person, Kurt would have interjected, but his faith in his boyfriend stopped him from doing that. If it had been anyone else, he would have advised against painting the bedroom walls mint green, because it reminded him of something from a hospital waiting room or a dentist, but somehow it had turned out perfect.

Kurt liked to think he was happy with his life, with his safe, comfortable relationship, his florushing career and an apartment with mint green walls. It was everything he'd dreamt of when he was younger. And yet he didn't feel complete. It was like something was missing. _Something or Someone?_

Kurt got out of bed a few minutes later, splashing some water on his face before heading towards the lounge. He grabbed his phone from the bedside table on the way, sending a quick text to his counterpart saying he was awake. The living room was a little drafty, and he could feel the cool breeze from outside billowing in through the open window. Oppose to shutting it, he grabbed a jacket and pulled them over his pyjamas. He smiled to himself when he noticed the glossy magazine lay flat on the coffee table. A magazine which he graced the cover off.

He picked it up, using his thumb to trace the outline of his body. They'd dressed him in a grey fitted suit, one which accentuated his figure making his body look in better condition than it was. His hair had been styled, coated so thick in gel he'd had to use countless shampoo's and conditioning syrums to remove the traces of it. On the picture, he looked young and handsome, which of course, was exactly the angle he was looking for. He turned the pages over to his interview, a two page spread- 10 questions in bold font with answers underneath, and a few more pictures from the photo-shoot. The Questions were what you'd expect from a typical celeb style interview, apart from one. One question had hit a particular nerve.

"When was the first time you were in love?"

On the day of the interview, Kurts cheeks had burned red and he began, subsequently to stumble over his words. In the end, he said what he felt he was obliged too.

"My boyfriend, Parker. We met when I moved to New-York." Kurt forced the words out of his lips knowing they weren't true. "He changed my definition of Love" That part wasn't really lying, Parker had. Loving Parker was easy, and natural, it was enough to make them both content. Before they met, his idea of Love involved desperation, heat and excitement.

Kurt sighed as even through the paper, the words sounded awkward and scripted- they weren't his. He wished he'd told the interviewer the truth.

He first found love when he was in a high-school. It was with a boy who wore too much Gel in his hair and wore bright coloured Bow ties. That his name was Blaine, and that he'd brought the best out of Kurt. That the first time had kissed was the defining moment of his life, the only time when he felt he'd completely belonged. That every kiss they shared after that was magical and passionate. It was the kind of kiss he'd never feel again, that was for certain. That they'd loved unconditionally and almost manically, not bothering to hide things. They were best friends, confidents and eventually lovers.

But if he'd told them that story, he would also have had to have told them how it ended.

He'd have told them that Blaine always wanted him to pursue his dreams, that he'd pushed him into leaving Lima for New-York. When it started, they spoke every day, on the phone, on web-cam. But then Kurt got his first Broadway role, and they spoke less frequently. Whenever they spoke they could feel the barriers building, feel that the distance was becoming to large. Then Blaine came to visit for opening night. When they got back from the show all Kurt wanted to do was sleep and rest his voice, but Blaine had wanted to go out for a fancy meal and spend the night talking and kissing. Kurt was frustrated that Blaine could be so inconsiderate. His Job meant the world to him and he couldn't jeopardise it through lack of sleep. He'd yelled at Blaine. Said horrible, nasty things that he didn't mean at the time but still yelled anyway. But Blaine never said anything back, he just stood there- watching. Thinking back, Kurt could almost pinpoint the exact moment when Blaine's heart broke. His face had dropped, his eyes watering. But then he'd somehow composed himself, looked Kurt dead in the eye and said. "I always knew that this was too good to last, but that's okay. You've grew out of me, I understand. Your career is what's most important to you, it always has been right? Well, Good Luck Kurt- I hope you make it". And then he'd turned on his heels and left, stopping and turning his head just before the door shut. "I love you" he'd whimpered.

And those were the last words they'd ever said to each other.

Kurt's thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.


End file.
